Brenda Novak’s Snow Baby “should appeal to readers who like their romances with a sophisticated touch.”
—Library Journal
“Brenda Novak weaves a vivid, completely unforgettable romance.”
—Lisa Ramaglia, Scribes World Reviews
“Brenda Novak has an engaging, realistic writing style with characters who are very real and true.”
—Shirley Kawa-Jump, syndicated journalist
“I will not be surprised when I see the name Brenda Novak on the bestseller lists!”
—Detra Fitch, Huntress Book Reviews
“Brenda Novak skillfully blends richly developed characters and emotionally intense issues to create a powerful romance.”
—Pamela Cohen, Romantic Times
Brenda Novak’s books are “must-reads for the hopeless romantics among us who crave sweeping adventure, pulse-pounding reunions and gloriously satisfying endings.”
—bestselling author Merline Lovelace
Brenda Novak’s “powerful storytelling voice” provides “the novel with depth seldom matched in this genre.”
—Cindy Penn, WordWeaving
“One thing is for sure: I know I never, ever want to miss a book by Brenda Novak.”
—Suzanne Coleman, The Belles and Beaux of Romance
Dear Reader,
The research for this novel took me to the small desert town of Florence, Arizona, a unique place where seven prisons (including the juvenile detention center) dot the arid landscape. Atmospheric and intriguing, Florence still has the feel of the Old West, without the gimmicks and tourists that clog so many towns with similar roots. The Old Territorial Prison is there, as authentic and captivating as the town, from the Pauper’s Graveyard behind the complex to the original cell blocks.
But this isn’t a story about the town or the prison. Not really. It’s about an innocent man stripped of everything he holds dear, a man left only with his character and his courage, and the woman who sees him for what he is. It’s a story about a woman who is torn between justice and mercy, and ultimately follows her heart. I hope you enjoy their journey.
I’d love to hear from you. Please feel free to contact me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 95611. Or simply log on to my Web site at www.brendanovak.com to leave me an e-mail, check out my news and appearances page, or learn about my upcoming releases.
Best wishes,
Brenda Novak
Taking the Heat
Brenda Novak
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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To my third daughter, Alexa, for possessing the purest heart I’ve ever known. Alexa, you’re always loving and remarkably kind, quick to smile even when things don’t go your way and the first to sacrifice for others. I truly admire your generosity. In short, you’re a rare jewel and a blessing to all who know you, especially your mother. If you forget everything I’ve ever taught you, remember this: my love is everlasting.
I owe special thanks to the state of Arizona’s Department of Corrections for their willingness to provide me with a tour of the Arizona State Prison, Florence. Rhonda Cole, Public Information Officer, and Blaine Marshall, Deputy Warden, ASPC-Eyman/SMU II were both more than kind and provided me with a wealth of information. I would especially like to thank Officer James A. Robideau, CO II, for the time he spent reading this story when it was only in manuscript form and double-checking my prison facts. Meeting these wonderful people was truly a pleasure. They made my trip to Arizona well worth the time.
I would also like to thank my husband, Ted, for his support of my career. He’s read every book I’ve written and always gives me plenty of love and encouragement.
This is a work of fiction. I saw nothing at the prison that would indicate corruption of any kind.
“The truth which is certain is known by means of intuition, the probable truth by means of proofs.”
James Beattie, Scottish professor of moral philosophy
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
“DON’T WORRY, Mr. Tucker, it’s almost over now.”
Randall Tucker sat next to his attorney in the courtroom, feeling utterly alone, even though the gallery behind him was packed to overflowing. He prayed to God she was right. In all his thirty-two years he’d never experienced anything so confusing, so terrifying or so painful.
“They can’t convict you without a body,” she said, repeating what she’d told him the moment he hired her. “When the jury gets back, you’ll see.”
When the jury gets back…
They were sure taking a long time. They’d been deliberating all day, and every minute seemed like an eternity.
Regardless, it’ll end well. They won’t put an innocent man away. Truth and justice will prevail.
“I never touched her,” he said, but he’d been saying that ever since his wife had gone missing, and it hadn’t made any difference before.
His attorney smiled confidently. “You’ll be home with your son in a few hours.”
He might go home, but their lives would never be the same. Andrea wouldn’t be there. They’d lost his wife, Landon’s mother, and there’d be big adjustments to make—
The door opened and fear clutched at Tucker’s throat as the jury filed into the courtroom and resumed their seats. Their foreman, a tall, balding man with a dark mustache, remained standing.
“Have you reached a verdict?” the judge asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Will you read the verdict, please?”
The man glanced nervously around the room, then looked down at the paper in his hand. “We the jury find the defendant, Randall C. Tucker—” he cleared his throat and peered at the judge, who nodded for him to continue “—guilty of the crime of murder in the first degree.”
Guilty? The word hit Tucker like a crowbar to the gut, momentarily stunning him. Numbly, he tried to raise his hand to rub away the pain, but it was no good. His chest had constricted so tightly he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.
“But I’m innocent,” he said, or maybe he only thought it. Someone was screaming inside his head, drowning out the chaos that erupted around him, drowning out his lawyer’s soft, concerned words, blocking everything but the memory of his promise to Landon. I’m not going anywhere, buddy. I won’t leave you, I promise.
And then the judge, his voice mere background noise until that moment, said something about reconvening for sentencing. Randall was pushed and prodded from the room. He spent the next few days in numb incredulity, caught in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.
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